


Once More and Again

by InBetweens



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of Suicide, Mirandy Bingo, Mirandy Year of Fun and Frolic, Paris - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InBetweens/pseuds/InBetweens
Summary: Andrea Sachs decides to leave her boss, Miranda Priestly, in Paris in order to retain her sense of self-worth. As punishment fate or some unknown power forces her to relive the worst day of her life to make her rethink her choices.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Entry to the Fun and Frolic Mirandy Bingo Challenge. My accepted challenge is Paris and AU: Time Travel.

**Part 1 of 2**

\-- **December 3rd, 2006** \--

Andrea stood in front of the Fontaines de la Concorde staring at the rippling water. The coins glittering at the bottom of the fountain atop the marble stone refracted in the unsettled waves.

There were countless wishes made upon the coins within the fountain. The young idealistic junior assistant to Miranda Priestly, editor and chief of Runway magazine, had made her fair share of wishes in this very fountain.

No matter how many wishes Andrea made as she stood in front of this fountain it never came true. To date she had made fifteen different wishes and not a single one had been granted. She didn't ask for millions of dollars or to be rich and famous. She didn't wish for someone to get hurt or to come back from the dead. It was a simple wish, really. The same one, over and over and over again. Worded and phrased countless different ways in an effort to make it come true. And yet, no matter what she did, it was always denied.

She tossed coins over her shoulder, with closed eyes, with the tip of her thumb, the back palm of her hand, everything she could think of. Anything to help her escape this prison that she found herself within.

Andrea had lost count of how often she had relived this fateful day. All she knew was that it was more than fifty but less than two hundred. At this point it might as well have been a hundred. There was no way of knowing. She'd lost count so long ago.

It all just blended together like the most spectacular kaleidoscope of color swirling around and around and around. It all became more and more frustrating the longer she went while stuck in this constant unending loop.

Some nights Andrea forced herself to stay up for as long as she could, just trying to make it to the next day. But no matter the time, once 7am rolled around, she'd blink, and her alarm would be going off on December 3rd all over again. She could be on a plane halfway across the Atlantic Ocean, touring through London England or soaking in the first rays of sun in Greece, but she'd always wake up to the buzzing of her phone in Christian Thompson's hotel room, disheveled and only slightly sober.

By now, Andy was sure it should already be March, maybe even May with how many times she'd relived this same day.

Her sanity was slowly slipping away from her. No matter the day, things seemed to change dependent on how she went about it. Sometimes things she didn't even remotely come close to being responsible for changed. She'd stopped trying to understand the hell she was in a long time ago. She had come to accept where she was, but she came to loathe it too.

Each time Andy relived the day she found a little bit of her soul withering away. She was stuck in this one moment in time, damned to experience again the same 24-hour period over and over again.

God or life or whoever was in charge of the cosmos couldn't give her the decency to relish her freedom from Miranda Priestly for more than a few hours before she was sucked back into the devil's realm, unwillingly.

After months of Andy had finally gotten up the nerve to leave her unrelenting, demanding, perfectionist of a boss just to find herself unable to escape the same 24-hour period where she finally grew a backbone and stuck to her principles.

Except…

The longer she was stuck in this loop the more she realized what a mistake she had made in leaving Runway, her job, and most of all, in leaving Miranda.

It wasn't that she approved of Miranda's actions against Nigel, she didn't, but in the time, she was stuck reliving this dreadful day she'd come to see there was more than just principles in which to be trapped.

Nigel believed that Miranda would pay him back. Miranda seemed to want to explain herself to Andrea, to make her understand what she had done—and Miranda was notorious for not explaining herself to anyone. Yet, that first day in the car Miranda had attempted to explain her actions, make Andrea understand why she had done what she'd done. Even if Andrea hadn't been ready to have the mirror turned back on her that day, she was now.

"Andrea…"

The woman sighed as her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of her name being spoken aloud.

"What now, Miranda?"

" _Excuse_ …me?" Miranda's shock was plain, and Andrea couldn't help but laugh at it. Laugh in sheer and utter misery at being stuck here once again. It wasn't often that Miranda came after her, herself.

Sometimes Miranda sent Nigel, or her driver, sometimes even Jocelyne. But it was truly rare for Miranda herself to come rushing after Andrea on the days she decided to leave the fashion maven to her own devices.

In the hundred plus days that Andrea had been living December 3rd she had lived it in countless ways. Miranda had only come after her three times, this being the third.

Some days Andrea spent her time sight-seeing and ignoring her duties as first assistant all together. Other days she worked harder to warn Miranda about the ploy she already knew the woman knew about. Most days she warned Nigel about what was to come and let it all play out as it would.

On one particularly low day Andrea had stayed in bed with Christian trying to forget about the night before where she'd found herself enveloped in Miranda Priestley's arms on a balcony overlooking the city, lips pressed fervently together as if they needed each other to breathe.

Andrea was ashamed to admit that she spent a lot of her days trying to get back to that one particular re-do so she could feel the touch of Miranda's lips once more. Sometimes she surprised the editor with kisses in the car. Sometimes Miranda responded well to the surprise, other times she did not. Sometimes Andrea kissed Miranda and sometimes Miranda kissed her.

There were nights that Andrea spent her time in the hotel in her own room, or in Nigel's commiserating. On rare nights Andrea would spend the evening with Miranda in her suite. They would go over work for the next day and preparations to be heading home, they could talk about the girls, the divorce, and sometimes they wouldn't talk much at all.

In the beginning—when Andrea had finally realized that she was stuck reliving this day from hell—she would spend her evenings enjoying the nightlife that Paris had to offer. She would come back to the hotel completely trashed most nights.

Sometimes she would be greeted by the disapproving glare of her boss, sometimes Nigel would help her up into her room, but most of the time she made it back to her rented bed without even being caught.

Still, no matter the state she would go to bed in, sober, drunk, tipsy, it didn't matter. She would wake with a hangover even if she hadn't touched a drop of alcohol the night before. She'd wake feeling sweaty and with a pounding headache, naked, and in Christian's bed over and over and over again.

The more she woke up with Christian's voice coming from the bathroom as the shower turned on, the more she longed for it to be Miranda in the hotel room with her and the sultry sound of the editor's voice echoing into the bedroom. But it never was.

Instead she had to make her walk of shame from Christian's room and decide what she was going to do with her day.

Somewhere along the way the routine of the day had started to calm her. Andrea often let the day play out as it had that first time. Only changing minute things here and there. Nothing of major consequence. And still, sometimes things changed seemingly by themselves.

One day it would be gloomy and rainy, and then the next it would be sunny and warm. There were countless different weather patterns to the day and countless more differentiations that she had lived. Some were far worse than others.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The worst of them had been when she'd stood before the steps of the Valentino show and gotten out of the car and stared at Miranda as she made her way slowly up the stairs without a care to even look back for Andrea. It was always in that moment, where Miranda stalked onward without a backward glance and Andrea stood just outside the town car that Andrea had to make her biggest decision. Would she follow Miranda, or would she walk away?

On this particular day—what she had taken to calling Truth Day—Andrea had watched in horror as someone stepped into Miranda's path up the stairs, but Andy didn't get a good look at them because Miranda at that very moment turned to look for her.

Andrea had felt a cold sweat encompass her body as something tried to warn her about what was to come. That nagging feeling that something about this situation just wasn't right, but for just a moment Andrea was locked in a staring contest with Miranda. Andrea was sure their eyes met, even though Miranda was wearing her signature sunglasses.

It wasn't in Miranda's eyes that Andy saw it happen, it was in the way the lines around her eyes creased and her mouth parted in pain and she surged forward as if pushed, that Andy realized what was nagging at her.

There was danger.  
Miranda was in danger and she was too late.

Andrea was running forward before she knew what was actually wrong, all she knew was that she needed to catch Miranda. As the first person slammed into her shoulder as she tried to run forward while they ran away Andrea realized that she wasn't going to be fast enough. She wasn't going to make it.

Miranda tumbled down the stairs, no one to catch her, people started screaming, the crowd started running away, and there was Andrea. She was pushing forward, shoving and throwing her weight around to push through the panicked crowd.

Andrea made it to Miranda before anyone and kneeled at the white-haired woman's side.

With gentle but strong hands Andrea turned Miranda over and saw the blood seeping out of a wound in her back where Miranda had been stabbed. The person with the knife long since tackled by the body guards that hadn't been paying enough attention to their jobs to stop the crazy fucker before he struck.

"Miranda…Miranda. It's okay…it's okay. I've got you." Andrea promised as she ripped at her own dress, tearing off the material around her neck to ball it up and put it underneath Miranda's side, her hands pressing up from the back and down from the front of the exit and entry of the wound. The blood was warm and thick, and Andy felt sick to her stomach as she frantically did all she could to stop the bleeding.

Miranda groaned in pain at the pressure Andrea exerted to stop the blood flow, and Andrea grimaced in sympathy.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Andrea whispered, she should have been there. She should have been closer. She could have stopped this. With all of these re-dos she should have known something like this could happen. She should have been able to prevent it.

My god…was this going to be the last re-do? Was she going to fail, after all this time, on the one day—the one redo that really mattered? Was she going to lose Miranda before…before what?

No, she couldn't. She couldn't lose her.

"Andrea…" Miranda whispered, her Prada sunglasses askew and half on her face and half off. Miranda lifted her shaking hand to remove them, her breathing labored and face cringed with fear and pain.

"Please…" Andrea begged, dropping her chin to her own chest. " _Please_ …you're going to be okay."

Andrea looked around them and saw that the guards had things under control now. Nigel was standing off to the side with a hand over his mouth as Jocelyne frantically screamed into her cellphone, hopefully calling for help. The sudden touch of Miranda's fingers grazing over her cheek pulled her attention back to the wounded woman.

"The…the girls." Miranda whispered, her breathing growing slower and the rasp and wet wheeze of her voice pulled at the strings of Andrea's very soul.

"Oh no. No. Don't do that. You're going to see them again. You're going to be fine."

The look in Miranda's eyes accused Andrea of being a terrible liar. There was blood stemming from the side of Miranda's mouth now and Andrea sobbed as two single tears slid from Miranda's expressive blue eyes.

"Oh god, please, Miranda. Not like this." Andrea begged, pressing her face into the soft touch of her boss' gentle fingers cupping her cheek.

"So…so… _beautiful._ " Miranda whispered, eyelids closing slowly, but not fully, as her hand dropped away from Andrea's face to rest outstretched along her side and her head lulled to the side.

Andrea felt it like a punch to the gut.

"No…no…Miranda!" Andrea screamed the woman's name as she pressed more firmly against the bleeding wound, wanting to shake the woman, bring her back. "Please come back. Come back, Miranda come back." Andrea begged till she was blue in the face.

But Miranda didn't come back. Andrea couldn't bring her back. No one could. Not Andrea and not the paramedics that showed up at the scene. Not the doctors at the hospital who merely pronounced Miranda's time of death. Not the morticians that covered Miranda's body with a white sheet, and not the prayers offered in hushed sobbed tones.

No one could bring Miranda back.  
And it broke Andrea.

Nigel helped Andrea move from the ambulance, through the hospital, to the morgue, to the hotel, to the shower to clean off the blood, and finally to bed. Nigel wrapped her in blankets to keep her warm, but there was no warmth to be found anywhere, she shivered throughout the night with an emptiness she could not rightly describe or understand.

For several agonizing hours Andrea wasn't sure if she would be given a second chance. She wasn't sure if she would be given another redo, and for the first time since she'd been forced into this circular hell, she pleaded to remain. To wake up in Christian Thompson's hotel room with a disgusting hangover and awash with a feeling of shame; all so she could see Miranda Priestley's eyes look into her own with life and a calculating gaze only she could master. Andrea remained awake all night wrapped up in blankets with Nigel pressed against her back holding her as she cried and whispered pleas and prayers into the empty hotel room around her until her eyes were blood shot and there were no tears left to shed and her voice was long gone.

Anything to make it so the last memory she had of Miranda wouldn't be of the woman dying in her arms or lying on a cold steel slab in a Parisian morgue so still and lifeless.

The woman who was so full of life, vivacious and buoyant with a charismatic air to her, so dull and pale and still haunted Andrea, haunted her to this very day.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Andrea woke up in Christian's hotel room the morning after Truth Day, hung over like a skunk and feeling like a skank, Andrea fell to her knees at the end of Christian's bed and cried.

Cried ugly fat tears and sobbed into her hands in relief. Relief that she had another chance, that she could save Miranda. That they still had a chance to figure out what was between them. Because the desolation that Andrea felt at losing Miranda on Truth Day was so soul searing it woke her up.

Woke her up to the fact that she had been blind for months. Months of putting Miranda first and doing everything in her power to make the other woman happy—going above and beyond her job for the woman—and she had been so blind. Blind to just how much Miranda meant to her.

Miranda was the most important person in her life, period. Andrea had just been oblivious to what happened during the late nights spent at the office, or in Miranda's study, in Miranda's presence. Nate wasn't. He knew, deep down. It wasn't about Christian with Nate, it was about Miranda. It was always about Miranda for Andrea. She just hadn't realized just what always really meant.

But now, now that Andrea knew what life could be like without Miranda in it, even for those short few unbearable hours, she was determined to never go through that again.

It had been several 'weeks' since Truth Day, and Andrea still found herself walking away from Miranda on certain days, but with the knowledge that she wasn't walking away from Miranda, but from Runway.

Like today.

Today, she had walked away from Miranda and stared at the fountain before her, wondering how all this had begun. For all the things this repetitious day had taught her she still had not learned how to escape it.

And maybe that was her curse. For surely, she was cursed.

Cursed to find herself stuck in this one moment in time where she finally realized what she wanted—who she wanted—but was unable to have them beyond this one day.

There could be no growth between her and Miranda here. They were stuck, stagnant in this singular part of their relationship. A relationship where Andrea was still Miranda's dutiful assistant and Miranda the demanding boss.

As hard as Andrea tried to break those barriers with the many days she had at her disposal, it wasn't easy. Most times Andrea failed. The few times where she succeeded were some of the best moments of her life. Except, come the next morning, those memories were only available to her as they hadn't happened for anyone else.

Somedays Andrea could muscle up enough courage and strength to be cheerful and optimistic.  
Somedays she could hardly muster up enough will to get out of Christian's bed.

"Andrea, whatever prelude to insanity that you have suddenly caught, we haven't the time. There is still much to do." Miranda insisted, twisting as if she expected Andrea to follow her back towards the show they were already late for. Andrea didn't move and so Miranda turned back to her fully.

Andrea laughed, rough and harshly as if the pain of her soul could escape through the humorless sound.

"Let me save you the time: you like the fourth dress, can take or leave the sixth and ninth. The rest were too bland for the spread you have in mind. But the new clutches catch your eye. You decide to do a spread on them for the November issue before the article on New York City's fashion history in relation to the dwindling coal industry. Interesting premise by the way." Andrea commented, her eyes never leaving the water trickling down as it welled up to lap at the edges of its confines.

"Andrea?" Miranda whispered, reaching her hand out to touch the brunette's shoulder.

The simple touch seemed to break through the fog that had fallen in front of Andrea. She turned into the touch, nuzzling into the warmth of Miranda's hand, catching the older woman off guard.

When their eyes met, Miranda appeared to be truly worried, especially when she took in the lackluster gleam of the doe brown eyes. There was such muted pain within them that it was a wonder it hadn't poured out and devoured all in its path.

Andrea blinked, the sympathy offered in Miranda's eyes alone setting her off as the pain she felt clutching at her chest tightened to the extreme and tears poured forth without her consent.

"I'm so scared, Miranda."

"Of what? Of what, Andrea?" Miranda asked, looking around them as if she could perceive the threat Andrea feared with just a glance.

Andrea whimpered at the gentleness of Miranda's gaze, of the care she saw shinning in the eyes before her. So blue and sad and alive and breathtaking.

"I'm so scared that this is all there will be for me. I want so much more for myself. I want to live a life worth living. I want to travel and see the world and all its wonders."

"You have plenty of time to sightsee." Miranda caught several of Andrea's tears with her thumb. "We will, there is time tonight. We can see whatever you wish."

Andrea shook her head, "I want to be a journalist and inspire people with my words." Andrea hiccupped through her unending tears. "I want to find love, feel it to the core of me, and have it grow till it consumes everything outside of just this one day."

"Andrea, you're making no sense."

Andrea sobbed, "I want to grow old with the person I love and watch our children become their own people." Andy stepped away from Miranda, wrapping her arms around herself as she cried even as she missed the warmth of the hand upon her cheek.

"Most of all, I want the chance to  _know_  you. And for you to know me like I do you. I've learned so much about you these last few days."

Miranda cocked an uncertain eyebrow, questioning Andrea's sanity and her statement all in one.

"I know that your favorite color as a child was orange but it's now blue, cerulean blue. I know that you drink coffee but prefer tea after 7pm. I know your first pet was a guinea pig that your brother found. You love dogs but would have preferred to have cats as they're more your temperament but you're highly allergic."

Miranda's eyes winded at each fact Andrea rattled off. All of them correct and all of them something Miranda had not told anyone in years. "How?" Miranda questioned, but Andrea didn't hear her.

"I know I could spend a thousand more days learning about you and still not know enough. But it's not the same. It's just so hard to be here…" Andy gestured around them with her chin. Stuck in this time. "…I want to be in tomorrow, and the day after and the day after that! I want to live a future with you in it. In whatever way I can have you." Andrea cringed and pulled in on herself more tightly. "An acquaintance, friend, lover. I'll take anything at this point, because I love you. I love you  _so much_  it's hard to breathe and I just. God, Miranda. I'll take anything you're willing to give. Just so long as you're in my life— _ **outside**_  of today."

Andrea noted Miranda's shock and sighed. Her declaration would mean nothing to Miranda. Not here, not in this particular day. To Miranda, Andrea had just lost her mind. That was all. There was nothing else for Andrea to do or say, so she said nothing for several moments.

City ambient noises filled the air between them as Miranda seemed lost for words.

"I'm sorry, Miranda. Let's just, go to the showing. Okay? Forget that I said any of that." Andrea waved her hand around the air as if it still held the secrets that she'd spilled a moment before.

Idealistic, naive, and stubborn were just a few words to describe Andrea. There was also desperate, hurting, and disappointed.

Andrea didn't let Miranda answer. She started to stalk back across the plaza towards the show, wiping and sniffling away the last remnants of her breakdown.

Miranda turned to follow Andrea when she saw a shine of silver heading straight for her wayward assistant.

"Andrea!" Miranda yelled, stumbling forward several moments too late to stop the impending disaster.

Andrea turned in time to see Miranda's outstretched arm reaching for her before there was a screeching of tires, a crunch of bone and glass, and then blackness.

**End Part One**


	2. Time Loop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entry to the Fun and Frolic Mirandy Bingo Challenge. My accepted challenge is Paris and AU: Time Travel. Thanks to Sandy for all the help with this story. All mistakes are still my own.
> 
> WARNING mention of suicide described in Day 12 skip as needed

 

_**WARNING,**  _mention of suicide described in Day 12 skip as needed  _ **WARNING**_

* * *

**Part 2  
** **The Time Loop**

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**Day 3**

Andrea opened her eyes to the sound of her alarm going off. When she looked around and noticed that she was in Christian's room, again, she closed her eyes just as quickly as she'd opened them. Impossible. She should be over the Atlantic Ocean halfway back to New York at this point. She shouldn't be back in Christian Thompson's room, naked, and somehow reliving December 3rd, for the third time.

"Andy, there you are…"

Andrea groaned and pulled the blankets up and over her head, hiding beneath the covers, hoping that this was all just some terrible dream.

**Day 8**

Andrea jumped out of bed the second her alarm went off. The room spun around with her dizziness but she only wobbled in her first four steps before she was able to see straight and get her feet moving beneath her. She grabbed her clothes that were scattered around the room and didn't even bother to slip them on as she ran out of Christian's room without a backward glance.

Andrea put her clothes on while in the elevator and watched as the numbers ticked down towards the lobby. An older woman gasped and refused to get on the elevator when she saw Andrea dressing in the lift, cursing about Americans.

Andrea would normally have apologized profusely but she was on a mission. She needed to get back to her hotel as fast as possible. This was the seventh time that she had woken up, again, in Christian Thompson's hotel room. It would be the 7th time she was reliving December 3rd.

The seventh time needed to be the charm, because Andrea couldn't handle much more of this.

"Miranda…!" Andrea banged on Miranda's suite door with a heavy fist. She was disheveled and hadn't even bothered to shower and change. She probably reeked of alcohol and Christian's cologne. "Miranda, open the door!" Andrea demanded this time using both fists to demand entry.

"Have you lost your mind?" Miranda opened the door, hissing. Andrea didn't give the woman the chance to finish her thought or her usual once over, just to be appalled by her appearance. Andrea pushed bodily into the room, body checking Miranda backwards until the older woman was trapped between Andrea and the wall.

"Andrea!" Miranda gasped, eyes wide and chest heaving with a sudden spike of adrenaline as she stared into the eyes of her insane assistant.

"Listen, just… **listen**." Andrea growled. "I know…about everything. I do. I can't explain how. But I know. I know what you're going to do today at the show. I know that Irv Ravitz is probably staring at us right now from down the hall. I know…" Andrea insisted, voice rough. "You need to tell Nigel before you do this. You need to tell him and make things right so I can get on with my life and finally leave this mess behind me. Do you understand?" Andrea asked huffing and puffing with her anger and her own adrenaline.

Miranda's eyes dipped to Andrea's mouth but otherwise remained fixed on the face scant inches from her own, the smell and taste of alcohol clear on Andrea's breath.

"Release me at once, or I will…"

"Call security on me? Fine! Do me the favor." Andrea backed up anyway, knowing she could probably out muster the older woman and keep her pinned. "Just, just tell him! Please Miranda. Just tell him. Take the time to do it. You owe him that at least." Andrea begged looking down the hallway to see that Irv Ravitz was indeed down the hallway and he was just putting down his phone. Probably calling that security Miranda was going to threaten her with.

"You are  **fired** …" Miranda spoke the words slowly and the glare upon her face was by far the most intense laser like glower Andrea had ever seen from Miranda.

"Great. Thanks. I quit like seven days ago anyway." Andrea grinned, sure that if she got Miranda to tell Nigel her plans that this nightmare would finally be over. She'd be out of a job, but then again she'd planned to be out of a job seven days ago.

Miranda raised a curious eyebrow and almost looked concerned for Andrea as security arrived and took her away.

**Day 12**

Andrea pounded against the solid wooden door, glaring at the barrier between her and her conquest.

This was all becoming ridiculous.  
Too ridiculous.

She had to make it stop and the best way she could come up with to do that was by telling Nigel herself about what was coming.

"Six, what is going on?" Nigel asked, eyes wide as Andrea breezed past him into his room.

Andrea hadn't changed from the 'day after' clothes she still wore. She'd come straight to Nigel's room, bypassing Miranda all together. The last few re-done days she'd spent trying to get Miranda to tell Nigel what was coming to no avail. She still woke up to a blaring alarm in Christina's bedroom with a splitting headache that made her swear off wine each and every time.

Nigel appraised what Andrea was wearing—what she was still wearing—and followed her into his hotel room. "Are you alright?"

"No, no, I'm not. But this isn't about me." Andrea insisted turning to Nigel with glazed over eyes. "I needed to tell you. Miranda is going to give the James Holt position to Jacqueline."

"What?!" Nigel's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "How do you…"

"Irv is trying to oust Miranda with Jacqueline. Miranda is giving Irv an ultimatum. He keeps her at Runway as Editor or he loses her and a list a mile long of designers, photographers, and models that will then no longer work for Runway. She hasn't told him that she's already secured Jacqueline to Holt's launch and she isn't going to tell you. So, I'm telling you. I'm warning you. Because you don't deserve to have your hopes dashed in front of everyone at that luncheon where you can't even react." Andrea rushes through her statement, watching as Nigel seems to wilt in upon himself the more she explains what is going to happen today.

"How do you know?" Nigel asked, as he sat down and looked up at Andrea, his eyes showing how he's still trying to understand what's being said to him.

"Christian…"

"Thompson?" Nigel clarifies to which Andrea nods, trying not to throw up at the memory of her night with Christian, which at this point seems like a lifetime ago. "How does he play into this?"

Andrea sighed, "Jacqueline has tapped him to be the editorial editor at Runway."

Nigel issued forth a mirthless laugh, "So he doesn't know she's stolen my dream job?"

"No."

"You didn't warn him?" Nigel questioned, curious.

"No. I'm warning you, Nigel."

Nigel smiled, a small bitter smile. There was something about his eyes that made Andrea pause. There just was something different about them. Something somber and lost.

"At least I know who's a true friend." He ran his hand over his face and sighed. "I need some time alone."

"Right, okay…." Andrea turned to go, then stopped. "Are you sure you don't maybe want me to stay or…?"

"Just, go." Nigel whispered, voice breaking, as he stared down at the floor beneath him.

Andrea left, closing the door behind her, trying not to react to the sounds of Nigel's sobs.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Nigel was nowhere to be found for the rest of the day. He didn't show up to the luncheon to introduce Miranda which threw the whole thing up in a death spiral where Miranda was at the eye of the storm threatening unemployment and black balling to anyone that got close.

Jocelyn ended up introducing Miranda with a lack luster speech and Miranda gave away Nigel's job to Jacqueline as she'd always planned, but this time when Andrea looked to her left, Nigel was not there.

Andrea stayed this time. She didn't walk away from Miranda. She attended the rest of the shows and did her job, flinching when Miranda kept ordering her to find Nigel. But no matter how many calls or texts Andrea sent him, he never picked up or answered her.

When they returned to the hotel and Andrea had finished all of the tasks Miranda had given her, she rushed to Nigel's room to see if he was there. She was surprised to find Miranda already there, opening the door with Nigel's spare magnetic key.

Andrea was only fifteen feet from the door when she heard a wailing scream unlike any she'd ever heard. She stumbled to a halt, suddenly very  _ **very**_  afraid of what she was going to find around the corner inside Nigel's room.

The wailing scream, Andrea rationally knew came from Miranda. She knew that it was her boss that was now sobbing in despair and crying out in horror and refute to the very air around her. Yet, it was a sound that Andrea did not logically attach to her boss.

"No…no…god…no." Miranda repeated, gasping for air as she cried.

Andrea felt the world tilting on its axis as she took the last remaining steps into Nigel's suite and walked around the corner, following the sound of Miranda's cries.

Andrea stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Miranda, thrown over the side of Nigel's bed at an awkward angle, laying across it as she held Nigel and rocked him against her chest. Andrea's vision tunneled. She saw how limp Nigel's form was, how his arms hung heavily against the bed, how there was something red straining the bedsheets that had been pulled up as Miranda rocked Nigel like an infant.

Andrea rushed to the side table and called emergency services. Her mind numb and body feeling heavy as she spoke to the operator, unable to give clear answers because Miranda was bereft with grief. Andrea took Nigel's pulse, his body cold and tried not to touch any of the blood already seeped into the mattress below her knee.

Miranda's eyes are unseeing but tears still fell as she clutched Nigel to her chest, whispering apologies, devotion of unending love, and desperate pleas for Nigel to come back.

When Andrea felt nothing beneath her fingertips but the icy chill of Nigel's skin she felt her stomach revolt and her vision flicker as she twisted and threw up.

She stumbled away from the bed, her vision blackening around the edges before she finally passed out to the sound of Miranda's whimpers and the coming sirens.

**Day 20**

"Six, where the hell are you?" Nigel's hushed voice sounded through the small speaker of Andrea's phone.

Andrea laughed, "I am out enjoying the wonderful sights of, Paris." Andrea answered, leaning on the railing of the river boat cruise she was taking around the glamorous city. The tour guides voice booming through the air around her as the other tourists took pictures.

"You're what!?"

"Sight-seeing, Nige."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes, I have. I gave Miranda my resignation letter, effective immediately early this morning."

"Why?" Nigel sounded like his head was spinning.

"Because I wasn't going to be a part of her scheme."

"What scheme, you're not making any sense, Andy."

"You'll figure it out. And when you do, I'm here for you. So is she, even if you won't believe that." Andrea fought back tears from the day she and Miranda had found Nigel in his hotel suite. It hadn't happened like that since. She'd been able to tell Nigel about the upcoming betrayal from Miranda and never have it end that way again, thank God.

Today, she'd decided, was going to be about her. She wasn't going to worry about Nigel or Miranda or the Runway politics that drove her out.

"Andy wha…"

"Bye, Nigel." Andrea hung up the phone and stuffed it in her back pocket. She breathed in deep, pulling the river air around her in. Her eyes lit up as she stared at Notre Dame as they made their way back up towards the Eifel Tower where she'd made lunch reservations for herself.

If she was going to be stuck in this day from hell, she might as well make the most of it.

**Day 35**

It was night or closer to morning. They had stayed up well past midnight talking and found their way out onto the balcony of Miranda's suite overlooking the city. A city that Andrea was beginning to loathe the very existence of.

"Andrea…"

"No. Don't give me that warning tone." Andrea stepped forward, trapping Miranda between the balcony's railing and her own body.

The glass of wine that Miranda had been sipping, in her celebration for winning against Irv, was forgotten as Andrea came closer.

"You could have warned, Nigel. He didn't have to find out the way he did." The tension in Andrea's jaw flexed as she stared at Miranda, chest heaving, nostrils flaring with her anger. Not all of which was directed at Miranda, but a vast majority of it was.

"Perhaps you're right." Miranda conceded, her eyes locked with Andrea's.

The wind in Andrea's proverbial sails vanished in a whoosh. "Huh?"

"Perhaps I should have worked harder to inform Nigel. He may have understood."

"Right, yes, he would have. He would have understood if you had just…" Andrea was floundering because Miranda Priestly was admitting, in a round-about way, that she had been wrong. That there was more she could have done.

Miranda Priestly was also staring at her with a certain…something. Something that Andrea couldn't place but made her insides twist into pleasant knots.

Then Miranda's hand cupped her cheek and the intoxicated woman whispered two simple words, "So beautiful…" before she leaned forward and brushed her lips against Andrea's.

Then it was obvious what Andrea had seen in Miranda's eyes: desire. Desire for her, and the knowledge of that plus the touch of Miranda's lips against her own caused Andrea's legs to tremble. Miranda, sensing her unsteadiness, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled them flush together.

Andrea always thought Miranda would taste like coffee so it came as a surprise when she instead tasted like the finest red wine Andrea had ever sampled.

Andrea felt like she was drowning. She wanted to be angry and put out and offended that Miranda would take advantage of her position like she was. But really, Andrea was just so damn happy. Thrilled even, that Miranda saw her as someone to desire, to want, to need.

It was like opening her eyes after a long nap that had been filled with vivid dreams. It took a few moments to familiarize herself with her surroundings and understand all the fanciful events had been nothing more than conjured images by her subconscious. That this, the world around her eyes now, was real and ruled by the laxing laws dreams were barely ruled by.

Andrea had deluded herself into believing that Miranda Priestly meant nothing to her. That the woman was evil and not worth another second of her time because she was corrupting Andrea's pure innocent soul.

The truth of the matter was that Andrea cared—a lot. She cared so much that the pain Miranda caused Nigel and the betrayal she'd dished out to him scared her. Scared her because if Miranda could toss Nigel aside so easily after 20 years of friendship, how quickly could Miranda toss her aside? How swiftly would her heart be broken by this powerful woman if she was in Miranda's way?

The last 35 days of December 3rd Andrea had sought to right Miranda's wrongs and remained angry and bitter about Miranda's actions. She never bothered to self-evaluate why she was so angry, why she was so hurt and confused. Not until now.

Now, all she could think about was everything she'd pretended hadn't existed, hadn't happened, all the long looks they shared, the way Miranda stared at her mouth when she was talking, the way her heart raced when she was close enough to touch Miranda, the way everyone else in her life was put aside for Miranda.

Miranda seemed to realize she wasn't kissing back and started to pull away, but Andrea whimpered, shook her head, and pulled Miranda back to her. She threaded her fingers through Miranda's signature hair and held them together, moaning at the taste of chocolate and wine on Miranda's lips and the exquisite smell of Miranda's perfume enveloping them both.

Let the world around them care about what this would mean in the morning. Andrea was going to take full advantage of this moment, more afraid that come morning it wouldn't have happened and she'd wake in Christian's bed once again.

**Day 48**

"Did you do this?" Christian grabbed a hold of Andrea's wrist and held her in place.

The luncheon was just letting out and Andrea had stayed behind to console Nigel for a moment, making it hard to catch up with Miranda. She was finally making her way past the crowd and out onto the sidewalk, the car just in sight, when Christian grabbed her.

Andrea glared menacingly at Christian and tried to pull her hand out of his. He held on tightly, squeezing enough to make Andrea wince. "Christian…let go."

"Did you warn her? Did you  _do.._.this?" Christian asked again, his eyes a river of pure fury. Fury that was being directed at her.

"Christian..." Andrea warned, looking around them at the growing crowd and the photographers. "Let go of me."

"I can't believe you. You'd pick that bitch over me."

Andrea growled, wondering what right Christian thought he had to her. What right he thought he had to touch her, to hold her against her will and then demand her loyalty. He would never have her loyalty. Andrea had learned that what felt like weeks ago in this re-do. Christian would never be the one Andrea choose. Ever.

"You're right. I did pick, Miranda. I will always pick Miranda. You, I will never pick you. Over anyone. Now, let me go!" Andrea yanked at her own arm and when Christian kept his grip she grit her teeth, stepped into Christian's hold, startling him for a moment. A moment she needed as she squared her stance and shot her knee up quickly right into his groin.

Christian's face turned purple and a rush of air left his lungs as he finally let her go.

Andrea turned to rush to the car but only was able to spin around and take half a step, for directly in front of her was Miranda Priestley, glaring over Andrea's shoulder at the slowly falling form of Christian Thompson.

"Car." Miranda jutted her head towards the waiting vehicle.

Andrea followed the instruction as quickly as she could. Miranda remained quiet as they both settled into the car and the driver pulled away. Andrea cradled her hand, her wrist red from Christian's grip.

"He will never work in publishing again." The whisper was barely audible, but Andrea was sitting so close to Miranda that she could hear the hissed words.

"Miranda…"

"How dare he touch you! How dare he lay his hands on you at all." Miranda was incensed, her eyes sparking with the same fury Christian's had held, but this time the fury was directed at Christian, the protectiveness was directed at her. Miranda took in a deep breath and turned to Andrea, her eyes softening as they fell to where Andrea cradled her hand. Miranda's left hand twitched and she bit her bottom lip as if in deep concentration. "You will see that it is looked at as soon as possible."

"Yes, Miranda." Andrea answered, moving her wrist in a way that caused her to cringe faster than she could hide it.

Miranda frowned suddenly, "Driver…"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Bring us to the nearest medical facility." At the wide eyes, Miranda glared, "Now."

"Miranda, really that's not necessary!" Andrea swallowed when Miranda's glare was twisted to her.

"We will see that it is looked at immediately." There was no questioning Miranda when she made a decision, and Andrea wasn't about to try now. "If it is so much as sprained we will press charges. There were plenty of eye witnesses, vultures that they are, with photo evidence of the assault."

Andrea's eyes widened, "Assault, Miranda, it wasn't—"

"Did he not put his hands on you?"

"Well yes, but…"

"Did you not insist that he let go multiple times?"

"Yes…"

"And did he release you?"

"No." Andrea sighed, not until she'd made him release her.

"Mmm…he assaulted you. He will be punished for his actions."

Andrea and Miranda both fell silent, though Miranda's eyes kept twisting to Andrea's lap, where she held her wrist as still as possible.

"I was impressed. With your attempts to warn me today." Miranda began a familiar speech, one that Andrea felt warm and clench her heart all at the same time. "I was also impressed with your defense of me with… _him._ "

"Of course I would try and warn you. I couldn't…I couldn't not."

"I was lead to believe that you and Mr. Thompson were, close."

Andrea felt a blush come over her cheeks. This, was a new conversation they had yet to have in all the days she'd lived December 3rd.

"We obviously don't see eye to eye on important things."

Miranda's brow raised, " _Things_ …Andrea? Have you graduated from  _stuff_ …to  **things**?"

Andrea sighed, "You. You're the important  _things_." At Miranda's startled look Andrea specified, "You and Runway, I mean."

"Hmm…"

Andrea wished she could know what Miranda was thinking. The older woman seemed plagued with thoughts that Andrea would devour greedily if given the chance.

"He is how you learned of the coup."

"Yes, he was."

Miranda smirked, "I can see why he was so angry with you then. Though his accusations were unfounded. I've known for some time now, what Irv was planning. You see, I was just biding my time to find a solution for Jacqueline, and James Holt was the perfect avenue to direct her to."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Miranda. I…"

"You're right. I don't. However, I find your loyalty deserves some form of reward. You have proven yourself today, Andrea. I will not forget this."

"Yes," Andrea whispered, feeling tears spring to her eyes. "You will."

Miranda became distressed at the sight of Andrea's tears. "Whatever do you mean?" Miranda's hand reached out and touched Andrea's uninjured one gently. True concern radiating from the older woman.

Andrea twisted her hand so that she could squeeze Miranda's, the comfort she found in the touch alleviating the sorrow she felt swallowing her whole.

"Thank you, Miranda."

Miranda truly appeared as lost as she should be with how quickly Andrea was jumping from one thing to the next. "What are you thanking me for?"

"Caring." Andrea smiled softly.

Miranda did not verbalize her answer, she merely squeezed Andrea's hand in return.

**Day 75**

"What is the meaning of this?" Miranda demanded an answer from the backseat as Andrea drove the car she'd hijacked from the driver. "Have you lost your mind?"

Andrea smiled, "I have. Yes." Andrea admitted, looking into the rearview mirror to see Miranda's shock at her answer.

"You abandoned your post and now you are kidnapping me?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say kidnapping."

"Oh, you wouldn't, would you? Then, tell me Andrea, what is it you're doing?"

"Well…" Andrea thought about it. "I'm taking you out."

"Against my will."

"You don't know if it's against your will, yet, as you don't know where we're going."

"I am calling the police."

"Don't, do that!" Andrea reached towards the back of the car for Miranda's cellphone and yanked it out of the woman's hands and tossed it into the glove compartment, all while sitting at a red light. "Look, just, hear me out. You're getting divorced,"

"Yes…" Miranda's tone darkened as she glared at Andrea as if she were a spec of dirt on a brand new Chanel dress.

"...from a man that doesn't deserve you."

Miranda had nothing to say to that so Andrea continued, "You just backstabbed your best friend."

The shock quickly wore off at that comment. "Tread carefully, Andrea."

"You also just stuck one to Irv. I think you deserve a night out. Away from work and responsibility. Nigel and Jocelyn have already been informed, they're going to cover for you at the after parties."

"You are taking a great many liberties here, Andrea." Miranda tried to hide an amused smile.

"I am, but from our discussions, I know just the place to bring you."

"Our discussions?" Miranda wondered what in the world the woman was talking about.

Andrea knew that they hardly spoke of personal things with each other, or they hadn't before this round-about-day-from-hell. That did not mean Miranda was not aware of Andrea's personal life, her office doors were hardly ever closed, and sound did travel. From Andrea's previous conversations with Miranda she'd learned that Miranda knew a great deal about Andrea from the discussions Andy had with Emily, Serena, and Nigel in the office. And of course, Andrea knew Miranda better than Miranda knew herself most times. She knew that Miranda needed this get away, and to be honest, so did she.

"Mmhmm…" That was all the explanation Andrea was going to give. She'd tried one too many times now to explain the situation to Miranda.

Most times Miranda did not believe her. Sometimes she did, but no matter the confessions shared, or the activities done, the day always reset itself and Andrea was stuck reliving the same day, the memories of the times before only hers to recall.

Miranda settled back into her seat and seemed to accept the situation for what it was.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Andrea was happy to see that Miranda was pleasantly surprised by her choice. This restaurant was far off the beaten path, small, quaint, with the ideal ambiance. It was also Miranda's favorite restaurant. During one of the many late-night conversations Andrea had with Miranda this little gem was revealed but as of yet they had not come to visit.

"This place  _is_  lovely." Andrea surmised as they waited for their server to return with the wine Miranda had ordered.

"You have not been?" Andrea shook her head negatively as she looked around, smiling at the atmosphere. "Then how?"

Andrea focused solely on Miranda and smiled wide, "My little secret."

"Andrea, I feel I must remind you that we, that this…" Miranda sighed, "You are still in my employ."

"Not for very much longer." Andrea continued to smile even as Miranda's eyes widened and a flash of panic set in behind her eyes. "When we return to New York, I'm going to give in three weeks' notice. Help with the fall out of the divorce, maybe stick around long enough for Emily to heal up, but then, I'm going to leave."

Miranda's shoulders stiffened, and she appeared hard pressed to breathe. "You're going to leave  _me_?"

"Not you, Miranda. Runway. I want there to be, I mean, I hope that there will be a difference." Andrea reached across the table and took a gentle hold of Miranda's hand, her thumb sliding across familiar skin. "I do not want to leave you, but I cannot be with you in the way I want to be if I still work for you."

Miranda swallowed thickly, "And what way is that, Andrea?"

Andrea's eyes glazed over with her desire, she allowed it to sweep over her like a wave. "However you'll have me, Miranda. But I think you're well aware that I want more than friendship and something more meaningful than an affair."

"Andrea…" Miranda slid her hand out from Andrea's hold, her lips dry and mouth parched as Andrea laid herself bare for Miranda to see.

"You don't have to answer me tonight. I'd prefer you think it over and if you want to talk more in-depth about it, then we can, in the morning. For now, let's just enjoy ourselves. Have a nice dinner, talk, say goodnight and start fresh tomorrow?"

Andrea did not want to ruin the night with the argument she'd already had with Miranda one too many times. Sometimes Andrea was successful in convincing Miranda that there was something to explore between the two of them. Sometimes she wasn't. Tonight, she didn't want to worry about convincing anyone. If she woke up and it was tomorrow she would happily discuss this all with Miranda again, knowing that they would both remember it.

"Very well." Miranda intoned, sliding her hand back across the table for Andrea to take, which caused Andrea's smile to blossom fully.

"Great, so what do you recommend for dinner?"

**Day 109**

"You are so beautiful." Miranda husked, her breath warm and sticky against Andrea's throat. The older woman's hands were everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. It was impossible to keep track of the wandering fingers. One moment they were threaded into the nape of Andrea's neck, then they were on her shoulders, sliding down her back, cupping her ass, sliding around her hip and finding their way to nestle between her thighs.

Their kisses were growing more incessant and their pace had tripled in a matter of minutes. Miranda hardly seemed to care that they hadn't even made it into her suite's bedroom yet. They were still in the living room.

Andrea wished they were near a wall because the way Miranda's palm rubbed against the seam of her pants was making her legs feel as light as feathers.

They had been talking and drinking for most of the evening. It was one of the rare times that Andrea was able to convince Miranda to open up, and now it seemed all inhibitions were lost. Miranda was fevered with need and all her exquisite attention was on Andrea. Andrea had fantasized about what it would be like to hold Miranda's complete attention, and now that she had it she was literally weak at the knees and wetter than she had ever been in her entire life.

"Miranda, oh Miranda…" Andrea moaned, her hips grinding against Miranda's palm, the pants she still wore hindering the full effect of Miranda's touch.

Miranda's mouth remained upon Andrea's neck and lavished the skin with her tongue and the suckling ministrations of her mouth leaving a clear and visible mark upon Andrea's skin. It was like a brand, a mark that spoke to all that she was spoken for, that she was claimed. Miranda was claiming her.

And suddenly the world twisted on its axis because the world would never see this mark. Andrea may never even get to see the mark itself because she would fall asleep with Miranda in her arms but would wake up in Christian Thompson's bed. It was like being doused with ice water to realize this night, this wonderfully beautiful night that was already filled with truth and passion, was going to be lost. Lost to everyone, except her.

"Miranda…"

Miranda moaned against her skin in answer, her hands pulling down the zipper that separated Miranda's hand from her ultimate goal.

"Miranda, Miranda, stop." Andrea gasped, groaning at just how little she truly needed to find the release Miranda was promising.

The word stop seemed to penetrate Miranda's desire and she lifted her head away from Andrea's neck with a pop, her eyes glazed, face flushed, and breathing irregular. Miranda was not a stupid person and she was far more adept at reading people than anyone Andrea had ever met. Whatever it was Miranda saw on Andrea's face sent that same rush of ice water down Miranda's spine as well.

"I'm sorry…" Andrea immediately said, but that was obviously the wrong thing to say as Miranda appeared as if she'd just been slapped.

Andrea bit the inside of her mouth to keep from whimpering when Miranda stepped away from her, putting significant distance between them. The older woman could barely look into Andrea's eyes as she absorbed what they had just done, what they could be still doing, and why they were not.

"Miranda, I want this. I want you. I want you soo much, but I don't…I think we should wait. There are so many reasons to wait and as much as I want you, I don't want to hurt you or us before there is an  _us_."

"Don't be ridiculous, Andrea. There is no 'us'."

Andrea cringed, the blow hitting her square between the ribs. "Miranda, you don't mean that."

"It is for the best that you stopped us. This dalliance would have been a mistake.  _Is_ ,  _ **is**_ …a mistake."

"Miranda, please." Andrea stepped forward just to have Miranda step back, keeping the same distance between them.

"I believe you should go."

"Miranda…" Andrea begged, but Miranda finally looked at her and it was not with kindness or affection but with anger and coldness.

"Go!"

Miranda had shut down on her. She was unreachable, and Andrea had fought this battle one too many times already to know what the outcome would be.

"Yes, Miranda."

The tears slid from her eyes as she nodded and made her way to the door. Miranda never looked back at her so Andrea merely closed the door behind her.

**Day 114**

Andrea opened her eyes to the sound of an alarm going off. Her eyes were crusted and her head was pounding. There was a bright light directly above her that forced her to close her eyes. The alarm continued to go off but Andrea didn't bother reaching for it. She remained as still as possible trying not to weep.

"Ah, there you are…" Andrea cringed at the sound of the voice but then she focused, "Sleeping beauty, herself. Time to wake up, my pretty."

"Nigel?" Andrea asked, her throat scratchy and sore, she hardly recognized her own voice.

"Six!?" Nigel exclaimed, shrieking and cursing as he hopped around trying to juggle the hot coffee cup he had in his hand and keep from scalding himself with the liquid that splashed over the rim in her surprise. "You're awake!"

"What…" Andrea blinked, her eyes squinting around her to see her surroundings. What was happening? Why wasn't she in Christian's bed? Why was Nigel here? Where was here?

"Andrea?"

Andrea melted at the sound of her voice with the particular lilt. She found she couldn't stop the tears that fell as she turned to her right and saw Miranda slowly rearranging herself on a hospital lounge chair.

"Andrea!" Miranda sprang up from the chair and stood at the head of Andrea's bed, her hand sifting through the brunette's hair. "Are you in pain? Nigel, get the doctors!"

"Right, right, of…right!" Nigel looked around frantically for a moment, found a place to put the coffee he was holding and then ran from the room to get a doctor. His voice echoed back into the room, "We need a doctor in here!"

"Mir…an..da…" Andrea croaked, her throat on fire and mouth dry and unable to lubricate it.

"Shh, shh…breathe, Andrea. Breathe gently. Everything is going to be alright." Miranda promised as she reached for Andrea's hand, squeezing it gently before using her other hand to wipe away Andrea's tears.

"Day…" Andrea groaned, her body tense even as she pressed her cheek into Miranda's touch. "Day…it?"

"Today is December 5th. You have been unconscious for two days. The doctors have assured me it was a medicated coma, but there was some concern with the pressure to your brain after the accident."

"Ac-dent?"

"Yes, the car accident? Do you…do you remember what happened to you, Andrea?"

Andrea thought about it for a long moment. Yes, it was foggy but she remembered being at the fountain and staring at the water after making her wish to make it to December 4th. She remembered Miranda had come after her and she'd confessed how scared she was and poured her heart out before going to walk across the street without looking both ways.

"Yes…fontan...say'd..."

"Yes, you said a great many things."

"Ment 'em."

"Now is not the time..."

"Ment 'em!" Andrea insisted and watched Miranda blush.

Andrea tried to nod her head but it caused the room to spin. She lifted her hand up, the one Miranda wasn't holding, and froze as she saw a cast wrapped around her wrist, making it incredibly heavy and hard to hold up. "Head…hurtz…"

"Yes, well, the doctors needed to relieve the pressure in for your brain from the damage sustained when that car hi..hit you." Miranda took a moment to compose herself, her voice having broken as she spoke of the accident. "You've had surgery, darling, brain surgery."

Andrea had a million questions but her eyes were dropping again and no matter how hard she tried to keep them open so she could stare at Miranda some more and hear what she had to say. Miranda was talking about injuries and prognoses and Andrea tried to listen, tried to make sense of what she was saying, but Andrea was having a hard time concentrating.

"Rest, my darling."

"I'm….sorry."

"No. Now is not the time, Andrea. We will talk when you are well rested and not under the influence of drugs."

"Miran-a…"

"No." Miranda's voice broke again and her eyes swelled with tears. "I almost lost you." Miranda squeezed Andrea's good hand tightly, lifting it up to hold against her chest as a way of comfort. "I almost lost you before…before  _everything_." Miranda wiped her own tears away with the tip of her finger but kept a steady hold of Andrea's hand. She cleared her throat and pressed a long, meaningful kiss to Andrea's closed fingers, their eyes held together. "I will be here when you wake up, and we will talk about  _everything_ , my darling. I promise you! We will have plenty of time."

Andrea smiled through her own tears and nodded her head once, groaning at the action.

Everything was going to be okay. She had been hit by a car, had surgery, her wrist was broken and she was sure to be in a lot of pain for a while, but everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay because it was December 5th. She hadn't woken up in Christian's bed. Her head hurt because she'd had brain surgery not because she was hung over. It wasn't December 3rd anymore. She'd escaped. She'd made it. She was going to be okay. She'd confessed her feelings to Miranda in front of that blasted fountain and gotten hit by a car, but Miranda was still here looking after her.

Miranda was holding her hand and looking at her like she was the most important thing in the world to her. Miranda had called her darling.

Miranda had said it was December 5th.

Her wish had come true.

When she woke up it was no longer December 3rd and she woke to find Miranda beside her, which was really all she could ever ask for.

**The End**


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